


Don't Forget, Labor Omnia Vincit

by MrRhapsodist



Category: Within the Wires (Podcast)
Genre: Audio Transcript, Coming Out, Dialogue-Only, Gen, Late Night Conversations, Trans Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 01:59:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16483931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrRhapsodist/pseuds/MrRhapsodist
Summary: Amy stays late at the office. She and Michael Witten have a conversation about a startling revelation about Amy's boss, and how he got to where he was in the New Society ranks.





	Don't Forget, Labor Omnia Vincit

**Author's Note:**

> I adore Within the Wires. It's probably my favorite podcast of all time, and every season is fantastic. I always wanted to do a proper "in the style of" fic for this podcast, but I never had a good idea until I got to Season 3 and Michael's tone of voice. Thanks to Lee LeBreton reading the script in Michael's voice, imagining a trans male isn't all that difficult for me. The rest is history.

[ ** _Editor’s Note:_ ** _The following audio was captured from the private audio logs of Michael Witten on the evening of December 16, 1953. It has not been edited in any way._ ]

* * *

[ _Recording begins._ ]

Amy, can I see you for a moment? Lock the door behind you. Please.

[ _Sound of a door closing._ ]

Have a seat. Whiskey? [ _beat_ ] Say when.

[ _Sound of glasses and ice clinking together._ ]

Well, I don’t suppose there’s any other way this day could’ve gone. No point beating around the bush. You’ve been with this office... how long now, Amy? A year? Two, three? Closer to three? It doesn’t matter. Or, hell, maybe it _does_ matter. I know if I just dropped this act, I’d sound more like y...

[ _Michael clears his throat._ ]

When you walked in on me earlier today, I was... well, I _am_ still a bit of a mess. Hard not to be at this time of the month. Even with the hormone injections and other medications, my body isn’t exactly... well, it’s not where I’d like it to be. I don’t have to tell _you_ what these cramps and mood swings are like, do I? Sure would be nice if we could just medicate the side effects away, but we’re not there under the New Society yet. Maybe one day, but for now... not so much.

[ _Michael takes a long sip of his drink._ ]

I suppose you have some questions. It’s after hours, and I already rang Vivienne that I’d be late tonight. She’s not mad, by the way. Just in case you were wondering. She understood why I’d be late. And she wanted me to relate, in any case, that she’s hopeful we can reach an understanding, you and I. This situation of mine is rather delicate. Extremely delicate. Dare I say it, if word got out about my records and my history, I don’t think I’d be at this office for much longer.

[ _Beat. Michael takes another drink._ ]

Amy, I don’t have to tell you that things for women still aren’t where we’d like them to be. Even after the Great Reckoning, even after the New Society and the overthrow of the old cultures, we’re still fighting for real progress. Women can’t achieve the status they dream about. And men can’t be themselves without fear of offending the powers that be. Even for a man—yes, a _man_ —such as myself.

[ _Beat. Another drink._ ]

I wasn’t always this way, as you might’ve guessed. Vivi was the first one who ever really knew me as Michael. She was the first. You might even say that Michael Witten wouldn’t be who _he_ is without Vivi behind him.

[ _Beat. Michael pours himself another drink and takes a long sip._ ]

Anyway, it all goes back to South Sioux City. Back to the bank where I worked. They’d wanted tellers and phone operators and all that jazz. They wanted young lads to clean up after hours and they wanted people who could operate a dictaphone. They would have loved you, Amy. But we’re talking about me. And to be specific, we’re talking about a young _woman_ named Michelle, who was damned if she was going to let anyone tell _her_ she had to be a pretty young woman sitting at a typewriter and arranging flowers for the office all day. She didn’t want to be Michelle. She didn’t want to sit forever in a cramped office staring out at cornfields somewhere in Iowa. So, one chilly November afternoon, after a visit to a barber’s shop and a tailor, she invented Michael Witten.

I never forgot who Michelle was, of course. But, after a time, I liked the way folks dealt with me. Men shook my hand and looked me in the eye when they spoke. Women curtsied when we met, even if I’d never take a curtsy from Vivi so long as we were dating. It was like stepping through a magic mirror. In walks Michelle and out walks Michael. And never did the world see anything but a fine gentleman in a cheap suit, ready to work hard and climb the ladder in life.

It’s been hard dealing with the press, but, uh, you know that. Your predecessor, Kevin Prince? He couldn’t handle his way around a wet paper bag, let alone the newspaper men. But he did know to keep his mouth shut. Not, uh, that I’m suggesting you need to, Amy. You understand. You’re adept at discretion, and I treasure that. I really do. But even so, you can guess that it’s been difficult keeping things under wraps. A few lines in the face here, a few sags from getting older, and then all those hush-hush trips to a medical specialist out in Cicero. It’s murder on my finances, but then again, Vivi and I are accustomed to a certain kind of life now. And who I’ve been these past several years, Amy, has definitely kept me ascending the ladder.

You know much in the way of Latin, Amy? I certainly don’t, even with an education. But there’s this phrase I remember, even years later. Read it on a brochure while I was in a Oklahoma bus station. It’s, uh, supposed to be the state motto, I think. “ _Labor omnia vincit._ ” Work conquers all. Nice, isn’t it? Supposed to a throwback to Virgil or one of those Roman poets. I think the brochure said A. Philip Randolph used it long before the Great Reckoning. Randolph was one of the bigger labor activists of his time. A real grandfather to the unions we used to have. I once saw his portrait in this very office, you know. He was something else. He’s the kind of mind I wish we had here in the Midwest Region office. Proud. Confident. And he never backed down from a fight. That’s what this whole office is about. It’s the dignity of labor, day in and day out. It’s what got me from Michelle to Michael all those years ago.

[ _Michael sighs and finishes his drink._ ]

And speaking of work, I think ours is done for the day. Thank you for taking this time, Amy. I hope I can continue to rely on you and your discretion. Think of me what you like, but I’ll be grateful if you can continue to see me as Michael Witten, Director of _et cetera, et cetera._ But now it’s late, and I’ve got Vivi to see for a _very_ late dinner at home.

I’ll see you tomorrow, Amy. Thank you again. And don’t forget, _labor omnia vincit._

[ _Footsteps fade away, and a door closes._ ]

[ _Recording ends here._ ]


End file.
